


no rules (in breakable heaven)

by tunastorks



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friends With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29771529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunastorks/pseuds/tunastorks
Summary: Alex and Henry hated each other from the moment they laid eyes on each other. The problem was, they found each other insanely attractive and couldn't keep their hands off of each other. So they came up with a set of rules. However keeping the walls up and the rules in place may be harder than they previously anticipated.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, June Claremont-Diaz/Percy "Pez" Okonjo
Comments: 7
Kudos: 97





	no rules (in breakable heaven)

The whole thing is Pez’s fault.

Pez’s the one who insists Henry needs a night out, the one who drags Henry to the club, the one who spots a gorgeous girl across the room and begs Henry to talk up the guy next to her so Pez can have a chance to flirt with her alone. Henry agrees, but one look at the guy and he knows it’s pointless. He’s attractive enough, sure, but he’s also wearing sunglasses indoors, his clothes look more expensive than Henry’s last year of rent, and he looks entirely bored by his surroundings. The words spoiled prick come to mind. He lets Pez drag him over anyway, and  
in the time it takes Henry to blink, Pez and the girl—June, Alex-the-spoiled-prick tells him— have disappeared, leaving Henry and Alex to try and forge onward awkwardly.

It takes five minutes of conversation for them to realize they fucking hate each other.

“Look.” Alex swirls his drink. “In the interest of speeding this terrible meet and greet along, let’s cut to the chase—irritating as you are, you’re admittedly very physically attractive and I’ve got a room in the hotel across the street. Interested?”

“You’re an absolute prick,” Henry tells him, fully ready to follow that up with a fuck no, only to find that in spite of himself...he kind of wants to go. If he’s being perfectly honest it’s been a while for him, and Alex’s a douchebag but he is attractive. “What’s the room number?”

Alex smirks, like he expected no other answer, and God, Henry hates him.

Which, oddly enough, turns him on a lot more than he expects. He’s never had hate sex before and he’s not expecting much from it, because all the sex he’s enjoyed before has come from a place of mutual admiration and respect. He doesn’t admire and he definitely doesn’t respect Alex, but there must be something there because despite being a very different sexual experience, it’s also without question one of the best of Henry’s life. It’s intense and athletic and loud, so loud, Henry expected Mr. Smooth Cool Guy to be more collected but he’s not at all, he moans and he gasps and he swears, a stream of sound that only serves to drive Henry crazier.

By the end of the night they’ve left bruises and scratches all over each other, fingerprints and nail marks and more than a few bites. He’s never had sex quite like it; now his whole system’s thrumming with adrenaline and pleasure and the need for more. He knows the routine so he starts collecting his things, but he can’t help hesitating. It’s not that he has any real desire to get to know Alex as a person, but he’s not seeing anyone right now so the idea of at least having this to look forward to every once in a while sounds fantastic. He feels like a drug addict, impatient for another hit but unsure how to ask for it. In the bed, Alex rolls up onto his elbows and smirks.

“Want my number?”

“For—”

“Sex only.” Alex holds up a hand. “Couldn’t agree more.”

“If you develop feelings—” Henry starts, only for Alex to snort and roll his eyes pointedly. Henry mirrors it. “If either of us develops feelings, we tell each other. Shake on it.”

Alex looks down at his hand with amusement. “Do you want me to spit in my hand, first? Or maybe cut my palm?”

“Just fucking shake on it already.”

“If I ever start swooning at your self-righteous attitude and overabundant arrogance, trust me, I’ll let you know.” Alex shakes his hand anyway, adds mockingly, “Should we write up a list of rules, or can your cramped brain manage to remember ‘don’t fall in love with me’?”

“Actually, that’s a good idea,” Henry decides, mostly to spite him. “Rule one: no staying the night.” Alex gives him a look. “Who said I would let you in the first place?”

“Second rule, we meet in hotels only.” Henry starts writing his number down on the hotel-logo-emblazoned pad of paper next to the bed.

This time Alex rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Third, no casual texting, we’re not friends, we’re—”

“Jesus, Henry, I know how a booty call works. I’m not going to ask you out for dinner and a movie. You want another rule, let’s throw in the hand-holding, stroking my face crap, what the hell was that?”

Henry can’t help reddening a little; he’s used to taking care of his partners, he tends to like them a hell of a lot more than he does this Alex guy. Alex hadn’t objected at the time. “It was just habit, don’t make a big thing out of it. I won’t do it again.”

“Great.”

“Good.”

“Fan-freaking-tastic.”

“Whatever, Alex.” Henry drops the pen back on the table, gathers up his things again and tugs his shirt on. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

It takes two weeks for Alex to text him. Likely playing some kind of waiting game, but joke’s on him, because Henry’s hardly just waiting around to be called. He’s not some kind of pet. He actually misses the first text, too busy getting drunk with Pez and Beatrice to notice his phone buzz, but they connect a few days later and Henry’s reminded why he bothered with such a jerk in the first place. After the second time things go a little smoother, they part on slightly better terms—not great, but better—and start meeting up more regularly. They follow all the rules to a T, though Henry has more trouble than he expects with the, as Alex puts it, “hand-holding, stroking my face crap”. It’s not that he likes Alex, just that when he gets into sex—and for all that they clash the minute their clothes are back on, they are both very, very enthusiastically into the sex—he forgets about those types of things.

They’re about three months and more than two dozen meet-ups into this thing, right when Henry’s finally managed to go a whole session without any of the “touchy-feely bullshit”— another of Alex’s preferred expressions—when Alex’s the one scrambling for his hands. Henry doesn’t think much of it at the time, mostly because Alex’s coming and Henry’s not far behind, but Alex clings and Henry holds him and when they’re both finished he rolls off. They’re still not friends, but they talk a little more these days—about the sex and how to improve it, nothing else, that’s dangerous territory—so Henry’s comfortable enough pointing it out.

“You broke rule number four.” He could be less of a dick about it, true, but it’s not like Alex ever holds back with him.

“I did.” Alex acknowledges, a bit of a gasp to it, but not because he’s surprised; he’s still trying to catch his breath. Henry gets the bottle of water from the bedside, takes a long drink himself before passing it along. “Thanks.”

Henry drinks. Alex takes care of the condom, ties it off and aims for the wastebasket by the door; he misses.

“Have you ever made that shot?”

“One of these nights,” Alex insists.

Henry snorts. “Maybe if we get a room with the basket directly next to the bed.”

“Shut up.” Alex elbows him. Henry does stop talking, for a minute, and Alex speaks up again. “Maybe rule number four was added a little hastily,” Alex admits. Henry glances over at him.  
“Possibly by someone who, lacking proper experience with it, told themselves they didn’t like  
touchy-feely bullshit anyway, but has since found that it could, potentially, work for them.”

It’s a mouthful of a sentence, one that takes Henry’s sex-hazy brain a minute to unwrap. Alex’s not big on direct communication. Henry thinks he gets it, though, and if he’s reading between the lines right he thinks it’s the most personal thing Alex’s ever told him. He still doesn’t like the guy much, but he can admit there’s not as much animosity between them as there used to be. If it turns out Alex likes being taken care of during sex more than he expected, well, Henry can work with that.

“Fair enough.” Henry shrugs. “Three rules sounds more solid than four, anyway.”

“How is three more solid than four?”

“It’s just a rounder number, I don’t know.”

“But three’s odd and four’s even, four should sound rounder than three.”

“There’s all sorts of stuff in threes,” Henry dismisses him. “Three primary colors, three types of matter, the rule of three—”

“Wait, back up.” Alex shakes his head. “There’s four states of matter, not three.”

“Now you’re just being argumentative—”

“I’m serious! Solid, liquid, gas and plasma. If you want another one, you could use the three branches of government or something.”

“I didn’t know what your branches of government were. I’m from the UK”

“Well I don’t have that problem. I go to law school, you know. At NYU.”

“Show off.”

“Is that what you like to call people when they’re smart?” Alex teases.

“It’s what I like to call people when they’re showing off that they have some fancy schmancy law degree.”

“Did you really not know that?”

“How would I know that?” Henry rolls his eyes, mimics Alex in falsetto, “Oh yeah, Henry, fuck me like I go to NYU Law School, because I definitely do.”

“I meant I’m surprised you haven’t googled me.” Alex flicks his stomach. Henry rubs his stomach and flicks Alex back, though it doesn’t really hurt; the nail marks Alex left on his back sting far more, but that’s the good kind of sting.

“How would I google you? I don’t even know your last name.” Alex freezes up and Henry backtracks. “Not that I’m asking, relax.”

“Right.” Alex relaxes, or tries to; it seems forced.

“What, do you want me to?” Henry raises an eyebrow, tries for a joke to lighten him up. “Have you fallen for me at long last?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Alex rolls his eyes, but the tension in his shoulders seems to finally dissipate.

“I just thought I told you, I guess. Doesn’t matter, I don’t know yours, best to keep it that way.” Henry nods his agreement, takes back the water bottle from Alex so he can drink some more before hoisting himself up. He snags a washcloth from the bathroom, does a quick wipe down of himself before tossing it to Alex and collecting his clothes.

“Next week?”

“Out of town.” Alex shakes his head. He’s out of town a lot; he’s some kind of politician, that much Henry’s gathered, but what kind of business Henry doesn’t know. They don’t ask those kinds of questions about each other. Henry just nods, and Alex adds, “I’ll text you when I’m back.”

“Sounds good.”

Alex’s gone for about a week that time, which is fairly normal, but next time it’s nearly a month. Alex warns him prior to it and they meet up again before he goes, but once he’s gone it’s still... strange. Henry doesn’t want to say he misses Alex, exactly, but saying he just misses the sex doesn’t feel quite right either. They see each other a lot, these days; at least three nights a week, sometimes more. Henry’s friends teased him relentlessly at first, but his thing with Alex is so regular now that even Pez doesn’t bat an eye when Henry says he’s heading out to meet him, and Pez’s always the holdout. The flipside of that regularity means that it takes them no time at all to discover that Alex’s out of town, and even less time to decide that Henry’s become mopey in his absence.

“Oh my god, just text him,” Beatrice demands, halfway through her third beer.

“I’m not going to text him.” Henry ignores the round of boos that go up.

“Text him, text him, text him,” Pez starts chanting. Shaan’s the first to join in, but given a minute  
they’re all going at it.

It’s Friday night and as per usual they’re all sitting around the coffee table, because it’s Henry and Pez’s apartment and Henry and Pez’s paychecks do not add up to affording a kitchen table and chairs. It’s their next intended purchase, though, right after they buy Pez a mattress that didn’t previously house a family of raccoons. And Call of Duty 4. Pez and June are lounging in the recliner—well, Pez’s in the recliner, June’s in Pez’s lap—Henry and Beatrice  
snagged the couch, while Shaan, late to the party, is stuck with the floor across from them. 

“What would I even say?” Henry throws his hands up, not giving in, but at least saying something to get them to stop chanting. The neighbors are going to be pissy tomorrow if they’re not careful.

“I miss your dick,” Pez suggests.

“Better yet, don’t say anything at all.” Shaan makes a gesture like his hands are a camera, and he clicks a ‘picture’ over Henry’s crotch.

“I’m not sending him a dick pic, Shaan.” He isn’t opposed to the idea of dirty pictures, or sexting in general, but out of the blue like that seems tacky.

“Do you think he would not like it?” Pez shrugs, takes another drink of his beer. “June and I  
often—”

Immediate and resounding protest rises up from the group, who have all heard far too many June and Pez stories.

“We’ve been over this, man, nobody wants to hear that.” Beatrice makes a face.

“I was merely going to say we keep in touch when apart, you make me out to be so crass.” Pez chuckles, then gets a smirk on his face that means nothing good. “Although, yes, I have also sent her many pictures of ….”

“Pez, for fuck’s sake—”

“Shut up, man—”

While the others continue to complain, Henry fiddles with his phone. It wouldn’t hurt just to glance—

“He’s not listening, he’s waiting for his boyfriend to text him,” Pez tells someone impatiently, snaps his fingers. Henry glares at him. “There we go. Henry, we’ve been over this, just ball up and text the guy already.”

“We have a rule about—”

The group groans in unison.

“Fuck your rules, man,” Beatrice insists. “You like this guy, and now you’re all mopey without him even though there’s a perfectly easy solution.”

“I don’t like him.” Henry can’t help a quick glance at June. He doesn’t like Alex, but June’s presence is a bit more of a reason to be emphatic about it.

June and Alex aren’t the type of siblings to die at the stake defending the others’ honor, but Henry knows they care about each other very much. Henry isn’t entirely sure of the details, what Alex or June’s jobs are, just that they both seem to have a wealth of political connections and influence and no shortage of money. June especially seems to be more flighty than Alex is.

She’s beautiful and charming and exceedingly talented at being what people want her to be, so she gets more than enough job offers to make that kind of lifestyle work for her. Henry worried a little in the beginning, about his best friend falling for someone who seemed so impermanent, but he’s grown to like June a lot and for all that she’s flighty with jobs she’s loyal to the bone when it comes to Pez, and now to them as well. It’s why Henry hesitates to talk about Alex around her. Though Henry’s better friends with her, Alex knew her first; Henry has no idea which of them ranks higher in her loyalty hierarchy, and he’s unwilling to test it. Mostly, he just tries not to say anything, but the guys seem unwilling to let that happen tonight.

“Shame,” is all June says, which is unhelpfully vague. Pez nods in agreement like he knows exactly what she’s talking about. Henry shoots him a look, and Pez waves a hand at him.

“Come on, Henry. You have to know you’re basically dating the guy, right?”

“We’re not dating, it’s just sex,” Henry repeats for what feels like the hundredth time. He gets booed by the group.

“Look, I am all for recreational, no strings, animalistic hate sex,” Pez gestures loosely with his beer. June smirks. Henry decides he’d rather not know why. “But that’s not what you’re doing. Not all you’re doing, anyway—I mean, if you have to rely on these bullshit rules to stop you from doing anything more, then doesn’t that kind of tell you how much you want to be doing more?”

“No, we just set up the rules to be clear with each other, they’re not—the rules aren’t stopping us, we’re stopping ourselves, the rules just establish—”

“If you say ‘rules’ one more time, I’m throwing my beer at you,” Pez threatens, but it’s a null one and they all know it. Pez would never give up free beer.

“It’s not exactly like you’re good at following rules to begin with.” Beatrice snorts.

“I don’t want to text him, rule or no rule,” Henry insists. He’s feeling less and less certain about that by the minute, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to tell them that. June eyes his phone. “I’ll give you a hundred dollars if you text him and he doesn’t reply in less than a minute.”

Henry stares. “What?”

“You heard me.” June smiles, tips her beer in his direction. “Going once...”

“I don’t—” Henry starts, only for Pez to lean off the recliner to punch him in the shoulder. “Ow!”

“Call of Duty 4!” Pez hisses.

“I thought you wanted a better mattre—” Henry’s cut off as Beatrice punches his other shoulder.

“Ow!”

“You heard the man, Call of Duty 4!”

“Going twice.” June grins.

“Fine!” Henry holds up both hands defensively, ready to catch any more punches coming his way.

“I’ll text him, breaking the rules we’ve established and potentially convincing him that I can’t handle no strings and that we should end the whole thing for good, which would be terrible for my sex life and make me really upset. ”

“Yeah.” Pez nods emphatically. “Do that.”

“Call of Duty!” Shaan whoops.

“Text him,” June repeats.

“I hate you guys.”

“You love us.” Beatrice leans into his shoulder, adding in a sing-song voice, “Though not as much as you love Alex...”

“Shut up.” Henry shoves Beatrice off him, pulls out his phone.

He debates what the hell he’s even supposed to say, before a stroke of true brilliance occurs to him.

Henry: June paid me $100 to text you, ignore this

He feels rather proud of himself, for all of about ten seconds. Then his phone chimes.

Alex: Just $100? You’re cheaper than I remember

June raises her beer in cheers. “What’d I tell you?”

“That’s—” Shit. He should’ve explained that Alex had to wait at least a minute. He’d said ‘ignore this’, but Alex might’ve thought he was just saying he could ignore it. Why did he text back at all? They have a rule! “Damn it.”

“Call of Duty,” Shaan moans sadly, falling backwards until he lands with a thump on the floor. Henry fiddles with his phone. It isn’t as if Alex asked him any questions, his text doesn’t need answering. Alex probably only even answered to be polite; Henry texted once, because he had to, Alex texted back once, to let Henry know he got it. They haven’t technically broken the rule yet, the rule is casual conversations. Two texts isn’t a conversation—

“Just text him back.” Beatrice elbows him. “I can see your fingers itching.”

“That’d break the rule.” Henry puts his phone down and leans over to grab another beer. The group boos him again.

“Rules, rules, rules.” Shaan makes a face at the ceiling. “Can you just text him so we don’t have to watch you mope?”

Henry throws a pillow at him.

This thankfully turns into a pillow war—it’s a war, not a fight, they’re grown-ass men and women, thank you—which serves as a distraction. Henry forgets about texting Alex back for a while, until they call it a night and June squeezes his arm as she leaves.

“He’ll text you back, Henry.” She smiles. “Alex’s not exactly a rule-follower himself.”

Henry wonders if she knows. He hasn’t told them, her or anyone, that he and Alex have agreed rule four no longer counts; any other rule and he would’ve, but the way in which Alex asked for it, however vaguely, seems personal. Alex’s story to tell, whatever story there is. Still, it does remind him—Alex’s already broken a rule, and Henry gave him a pass. Alex would likely be okay with breaking another, just this once. It isn’t like Henry intends to text him for long, or become buddy-buddy. He just wants to...check in, that’s all. He’s used to seeing Alex all the time, and now it’s been almost two weeks; that’s the longest since they started this whole thing.

He picks up his phone, contemplating Alex’s last message from more than an hour ago. Should he give an excuse for how long it took him to answer? He settles on,

Henry: You’re the one who keeps booking the marriott when there’s a hampton inn right around the corner

Again, Alex’s reply takes hardly a minute. He must be a fast texter; June swindled Henry.

Alex: If I knew STDs and dirty sheets turned you on, I would have

Before Henry can even think of a reply, a second message pops up.

Alex: Busy night?

Henry hesitates, then texts,

Henry: Drinking with friends, got distracted. And I’m sure the hampton inn cleans their sheets, you’re just spoiled

Alex: If spoiled = values my health then yes, I am. The only way I’d step foot in a hampton inn is in a hazmat suit, and no one looks good in hazmat yellow

Henry: You sure? I definitely have a thing for men in hazmat suits

Alex: I’m calling bullshit

Henry: No, really. The sterile yellow really accentuates the whites of their eyes

Alex: Lmao, keep it up, I’ll wear a hazmat suit next time and you’ll have to eat your words

Henry: Did you really just say ‘lmao’

Alex: I texted it, I didn’t say it

Alex: And I’m in a meeting, I didn’t think about it, dick

Henry: Did you really just call me a dick while in a meeting

Alex: Dick

Alex: Dickety dickfaced dicksucker

Alex: To be fair, you’ve definitely earned the title of dicksucker

Henry: I’m so honored

Alex: Would ‘champion dicksucker’ make you feel better?

Henry: I’m concerned about the fact that you feel comfortable writing a text including the phrase ‘champion dicksucker’ in the middle of a meeting

For whatever reason, Alex’s reply takes a whopping three minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Not that anyone’s counting.

Alex: I can write a hell of a lot more than that, if you want 

Ah. That might be why. Though Alex apparently thought twice about sending it, Henry finds he doesn’t really need to think twice about his answer.

Henry: Show me what you got

Turns out, what Alex’s got is a lot.

He’s a better writer than Henry’s expecting, to be honest, though he should’ve at least suspected it; Alex’s exceptional at dirty talk, it makes sense that would translate. Henry finds he’s very glad Pez went to June’s for the night. He’s always felt a little weird masturbating with Pez home, their rooms are too close, and Alex’s texts are winding him up almost as fast as if Alex’s right there in the room with him. Then Alex starts giving him directions, like he knows what Henry’s doing—he probably does, considering how slowly Henry’s replies are coming—telling  
Henry how he’d help him if he were there, how he’d direct Henry’s hand with his own but not touch him anywhere else, tease him, make him beg for contact, and Henry hears himself say please to the empty room in spite of himself. He doesn’t tell Alex, Alex’s smug enough as is. Henry’s tantalizingly close when the texts stop.

Henry kind of wants to throttle him—that complete and utter dick, Henry can’t believe he didn’t see this coming—and then his phone rings. Actually rings, for a call instead of a text, and Henry almost knocks it off the bed in his scramble to grab it. He’s way too far gone to bother trying to tell himself he’s not hoping it’s Alex.

“Hey, sorry, meeting ended, had to shake a few hands with a hard-on, that was fun,” Alex starts talking immediately, before Henry can so much as get a word in edgewise. “In the limo now, partition’s up, we’re good.”

Words like limo and partition buzz around in Henry’s head, and if he’s supposed to know what that means, he doesn’t. Alex seems to get that, because his tone changes from rushed and apologetic to something slower, more suggestive.

“You’re still touching yourself, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Henry breathes. He’s not quite as close as he was before, the abruptness of Alex cutting off and then transitioning to a call threw him a little, but he can get back there. Alex’s voice in his ear, heavy with promise? He can get there.

“Give yourself a stroke for me. That’s it, good, nice and slow,” Alex encourages, not waiting for Henry to say that he’s done it. Alex knows he will. The thought does something to him, a twist of heat low in his gut, and Henry lets out a breathy sigh. Alex hums. “I’ve got time, no rush here. You got somewhere to be, Henry?”

“No,” Henry almost stutters over the word. It’s not even the way he’s touching himself, it’s Alex voice, slow and soft and enticing, familiar and exactly what he needs right now. It’s been weeks but it feels like years.

“Good. Christ, I’ve been hard for ages, all through that damn meeting.” There’s a rustling sound over the line, something that sounds like a zipper. Arousal jolts through Henry at the thought; Alex in some fancy suit, pants around his ankles in the back of a car, getting off to Henry’s voice. Henry squeezes himself, tight, tries to calm down. He must make some sort of noise. “Thinking about me?”

“Yes,” Henry rasps, “God, yes, you in one of those nice suits, all mussed up now, with your tie askew and your pants shoved to your thighs like a teenager, too eager to wait.”

“Yeah?” It’s Alex’s turn to be breathless, and Henry hears him moan over the line. It’s not acting, either; Alex’s shameless, it’s fantastic. “You like the debauched look, huh?”

“I do.” Henry tries to get a grip on one of the several dozen fantasies jumbling around in his head now. “I’d make it worse, if I could. I’d unbutton your shirt, leave hickeys all down your throat and chest. I’d suck you off, be messy about it, get come all over those expensive pants of yours.”

Alex moans again, deeply this time. “Fuck, Henry. I’d hold you down by your hair—”

“Tight, like I like it—”

“Real tight, yeah, keep you there until you’re gasping—”

“Choking on your cock and still begging for it—”

“And I’d run my thumb over your mouth, all slick and stretched around me—god, fuck, Henry.” Alex cut himself off with a sharp inhale. “Why the fuck are you not here and fucking me—”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Henry can hardly breathe through his arousal, putting together a coherent thought is impossible. He says whatever comes to mind, wants it so badly he feels like his blood’s on fire. “Have me suck you til you’re right on the edge, then leave you hanging, manhandle you over—”

Alex keens. It always seems to do something for him, being reminded that Henry’s stronger than him and not above using it to his advantage. “God, shit, yeah—”

“Press you into the seats and take you from behind—”

Alex gives a choked laugh. “What, no prep?”

“It’s a fantasy, Alex, c’mon.”

“What, fantasy you is some kind of sadist?”

“No, maybe—maybe fantasy you prepped yourself, I don’t know—”

“Your fantasy is for me to do all the work?”

“My fantasy involves being inside you as fast as possible, okay? Pretend I prepped you, then—”

“Why am I the only one pretending, why aren’t you pretending—”

“Okay, we’re now both pretending that I have taken my sweet time thoroughly and completely stretching you, four fingers wide and a whole bottle of lube—”

“You’re such a—” Alex’s breath catches. “—sarcastic little fucker.”

“And that turns you on.” Henry grins knowingly, and Alex stutters out something that’s half Henry’s name and half a moan. “Yeah, I know it does. You’re close too now, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, yeah,” Alex groans. Henry feels his toes curl. “You there?”

Henry nods without thinking about it, wound too tight to realize Alex can’t hear him. “Alex— Alex, I need—”

“I know,” Alex pants, “I know what you need, Henry, you need—need to fuck me, use me, rut into me hard and fast and desperate, I need you too, it’s been weeks, babe, god—”

Henry comes without warning, a twist of pleasure and a flare of heat up his spine. He can’t breathe for a minute after, can’t hear anything distinct, just Alex’s voice still going on about all the dirty things he has planned for when he’s back. His voice hits a certain crescendo and he stutters, gasps, and then Henry knows he’s coming by the sound he makes. He knows exactly how Alex looks just then, breathless and flushed with exertion, expression twisted in pleasure; it’s enough that Henry can feel his dick making a valiant attempt at re-arousal. He wants to be there with Alex, wherever there is.

They pant together over the line for a minute, but it’s companionable, comfortable even. Eventually, Alex speaks first.

“I know there’s no rule, but I’m gonna go ahead and preemptively apologize for the ‘babe’ bit anyway. I’d be sorrier, but. You know my mouth.”

Henry laughs, because he does. “Don’t worry about it. Worry about what I’m gonna do to that mouth when you get back.”

Alex groans. “I’m not gonna last another two weeks.”

“So don’t,” Henry decides. It’s not really breaking their rule, anyway. “Call me.”

“Isn’t that...?”

“Nah.” Henry shakes his head, though he knows rationally that Alex can’t see him. “We said no casual conversation, phone sex doesn’t count. Right?”

“Yeah, no, that makes sense,” Alex agrees emphatically. It’s a little quick, but then, he’s always looser after sex. “I’ll call you.”

“Sounds good.”

The next two weeks aren’t exactly short, and they’d be better with Alex actually around to do the things they talk about, but it passes much faster than the first two. They call often and in between calls they text, having come to the unanimous, unspoken agreement that despite what they said, phone sex has broken the casual conversation rule, or has at least led them to the breaking point.

So they call, and they text, and it’s during this time that Henry realizes Alex’s not actually a totally terrible person. He wouldn’t say they’re friends—not out loud—but he thinks it, knows it. He still doesn’t know Alex’s birthday, or his last name, or what his job is, but he knows Alex’s favorite fruit is strawberries and that his last girlfriend, Nora, was allergic to them. He knows Nora is the only serious partner Alex’s ever had, and one of his best friends to this day. He knows there’s a man called Cash who Alex describes as his “one true platonic life partner”, and the only time they’ve ever voluntarily gone a week without speaking was in college, after Cash accidentally crawled into Alex’s bed instead of his own and they made out, briefly, until they figured out they weren’t each other’s girlfriends via the startling lack of breasts. Alex discovered he was attracted to men as well as women; Cash did not. It was an awkward week.

He knows by now that he’s definitely supposed to know who Alex is, celebrity-wise, but he also knows Alex’s glad he doesn’t; Henry tries to keep it that way, avoiding questions that dig too close to an identity and not thinking about any of the details too hard. Henry initial impression of Alex seems to have been a mask, or at least a partial one—Alex’s definitely got a snarky streak a mile wide, no question about that—but he’s kinder when he’s comfortable. Less defensive, more teasing. Henry wants to keep it that way.

Henry fully expects the texts to dry up once Alex’s back in town. They text all day until Alex gets on the plane, then meet up in the middle of the afternoon because Alex goes straight from the airport to the hotel. They spend the whole afternoon and most of the night in their room; Henry’s basically a zombie the next day at work, but he’s too blissed out to care. If there’s such a thing as the orgasm equivalent of a hangover, he’s got it. He can’t resist texting Alex that, who texts back as quick as ever suggesting that they call it an ‘orgover’. Henry points out that sounds kind of like the orgy version of Passover, then they get sidetracked debating which holiday would be best if turned into an orgy, and weeks pass without either of them ever quite finding the right place to end the conversation. So they don’t.

It takes them four months after that to break another rule, which, all things considered, Henry doesn’t think is actually all that terrible.

They’re friends now, even Alex’s acknowledged it—which is good, the term hate-sex hasn’t applied in a long while and friends with benefits is much more apt—and though their sex life has slowed, a little, their conversations have only picked up. He still doesn’t know Alex’s last name or occupation, but there’s little else he doesn’t; he knows Alex’s birthday now, March 27th, and that he’s the kind of genius who forgets to eat in favor of drafting new bills, which is how they wind up breaking rule number two: no meeting outside of hotels.

Alex’s office is breathtaking.

It’s the kind of place Henry previously thought was only possible in 1800s Britain, with sprawling bookshelves and a gigantic desk. Alex shows him his projects; Henry knows at this point that Alex works for President Claremont and there is the small little fact that the son of Ellen Claremont so happens to be named Alex Claremont-Diaz, but Alex doesn’t bring it up so Henry doesn’t either. Instead, he takes a seat on the couch across from Alex, who’s typing away at his computer with another hotshot-looking lawyer, and chats a little with an intern while he waits for Alex.

Henry must be doing something right, because he can’t help noticing the way Alex keeps glancing at him, shooting him these significant looks anytime he thinks Henry is focused enough on his conversation not to notice.

“What?” Henry rubs a thumb over his cheek, when he and Alex are finally alone in his office, “Did I embarrass myself in front of all the posh undergrads who intern here?”

“No, it’s nothing.” Alex waves him off. “Just… hearing you talk about LGBT laws throughout history. S’cute.”

“Well I did double major in history and english at Oxford. Before I decided to get the fuck away from the homophobes I unfortunately happen to be related to. Did you know that a majority of authors from the twenties were part of the community? That’s why so many of the classics have so much queer subtext in them. In fact, in all of Wildes’ work-”

He looks up and finds Alex staring at him again.

“What?”

Alex shakes his head. “I...am trying to figure out whether I should book a hotel for tonight or if we should just risk it right here.”

It’s not true, Henry knows; he knows how Alex looks when he’s thinking about sex, and that wasn’t what he was thinking about. But he’s closing off now, a little bit, Henry can see it in the way his brows are knitting together and he’s hunching forward in preemptive defense, so Henry doesn’t push. Instead, he leans in and grins.

“I didn’t think you were the kind to shy away from a risk, Alex.”

Alex smiles, a quicksilver little thing, then he’s pushing himself up and going over to dig through a desk drawer. When he finds what he’s looking for, he pumps his hand in the air like the end of Breakfast Club. Henry can’t help but laugh, both at the gesture and his prize.

“Of course you keep lube in your office.”

“What, weren’t you ever in boy scouts?” Alex returns to Henry with a grin as he situates himself comfortably in Henry’s lap, deposits the bottle beside them and starts kissing along Henry’s neck. “It wouldn’t do to be unprepared, Henry.”

“We had beaver scouts in England. And yes, I did join. You,” Henry says definitively, slides his hands along Alex’s waist to get a better hold. “Were never a boy scout.”

“Alright, maybe not,” Alex admits, moving to nip at Henry’s ear. “But I’d bet you a million dollars the self-righteous little sassmonster that was your childhood self never lasted beyond the first week. If you weren’t a troublemaking brat, then I’ve never met one in my life.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Fair, but already established.” Alex winds his fingers through Henry’s hair and tugs, just the right side of tight to tilt Henry’s head back. “C’mon, spill. Am I keeping my money or are we booking the penthouse again?”

It’s Alex’s go-to threat. He means one penthouse in particular, at the Four Seasons, because after they spent an insanely luxurious night there once Henry had been too curious afterwards not to google the price. He was—and still is, frankly—utterly horrified.

“Alright, I got kicked out four days in,” Henry admits. Alex beams triumphantly and kisses him, a little messy, mostly because he’s mouthing I so totally fucking knew it against Henry’s lips.

“For what?”

“Hm?” Henry plays innocent. “You know, I don’t even remember what we were talking about, you’re such an amazing kisser it just completely wiped my mind.”

Alex’s hands slip lower. “You think I’m afraid to cheat?”

“Oh, no, you gonna punish me with a handjob?” Henry cants his hips up, already eager for it. “You know, I’ve been really bad, you might have to blow me for the message to truly sink in...”

“Oh, I’ve got plans for you alright...” Alex’s hands edge under his shirt, and Henry’s breathcatches a little at the soft, light caress...then catches again, because Alex’s not caressing at all.

He’s tickling, and he’s tickling to win because it takes barely seconds before Henry can hardly breathe through the laughter. He tries to shove Alex off but Alex just tucks his ankles under Henry’s thighs, stays hooked on him like a vice, determined and completely, utterly ruthless.

“I give!” Henry gasps out. “I give, you’re a terrible, horrible person and I give up you win—”

“Damn right I win.” Alex smirks, running his fingers along Henry’s side one last time. Whether it’s a promise or a warning, Henry’s too light headed to tell. Alex leans in, kisses him, steals more of his air. “Tell me.”\

“Have I mentioned...” Henry can’t help panting a little, and not in the usual, fun way. “That you’re a terrible, horrible person?”

“Repeatedly.” Alex beams at him. “You know what you haven’t mentioned? Why you got kicked out of British boy scouts.”

“It wasn’t even my fault,” Henry insists, because it wasn’t, it was his asshole leader’s fault. Alex lounges a little, moving off of Henry and to the right, kicking his legs up over Henry’s lap and resting an arm against the back of the couch.

“All my favorite stories of you start with the phrase ‘it wasn’t even my fault’.” Alex grins. “So what’d Pez dare you to do this time, lick another swing set?”

“No.” Henry scowls at him, flicks his ankle. “I told you, that was only the once. And I didn’t lick it, I just—”

“‘Tapped it briefly with your tongue’, I know.” Alex smirks cheekily. “Come on, get to the good stuff. How old were you?”

“I was ten, Mom thought it might help give me some after school structure—”

Alex fakes a gasp. “Are you telling me that writing Captain America x Iron Man fanfiction wasn’t a school-sanctioned sport?”

“Alex, do you want to hear the story or not?” Henry threatens, following it up with a poke in the ribs. Alex laughs, then mimes zipping his lips. Henry rolls his eyes, entirely disbelieving, but continues anyway. “So, ten. Enrolled in beaver scouts. Didn’t take long to discover my scout leader was a homophobe, all that ‘scouts is for real men’ and ‘no room for pansies here’ bullshit. So—”

“Oh, right, so you calmly told your mom, who then pulled you from the club without any fanfarewhatsoever,” Alex finishes, apparently unable to help himself. Henry glares at him, and Alex has the gall to bat his eyes. “Right?”  
Henry sighs. “...or Pez and I made out on the hood of his car instead.”

Alex freezes, just staring for a second, then he’s absolutely howling with laughter. He has to grab Henry’s shoulder just to keep himself on the couch, and even with that he nearly falls off. Henry hauls him back up and keeps the arm around his waist; partially because it’s comfortable, but mostly because he knows this next part will have Alex laughing even harder.

“When we hopped up onto it we set off the car alarm, so he came out pretty fast, but he also thought the neighborhood kids were messing with his car again so he came out armed and ready with his hose. When he realized who we actually were and what we were doing, he just changed the nozzle settings and sprayed us harder until we had to run off. I never set foot in scouts again.”

He’s right; Alex laughs even harder. Eventually the laughter peters off into snickering, most of it pressed into Henry’s shoulder as Alex leans forward and presses his face there like that’ll somehow help stop his giggling fit. 

“You’re such a terror, I can’t...how are you even real? My god, Henry. ‘My scout leader was a homophobe so I made out with a guy on the hood of his car’, who does that?”

He’s back to giggles again. Henry rolls his eyes, but he can’t help feeling affectionate more than anything else. “He deserved it.”

“He sure did.” Alex tucks his hand into the crook of Henry’s arm, gives a squeeze. “And of course, good ol’ Prince Henry just couldn’t resist jumping in with some righteous justice.”

Henry groans. “Not that again.”

“You have the dramatic cheekbones, blonde hair, the accent… you look exactly like Prince Charles did before Diana took back those Spencer genes when he turned into a cheating scumbag. I say you look like you could be royalty, even if you do live in a one bedroom in Brooklyn.”

“Well if I was, I never would have met you, would I.”

“Shh, your highness.” Alex presses a finger to his lips. “I think we could have made it.”

Henry snorts. “Would goody-two-shoes, stuffy ol’ Prince Henry do this, huh?”

He gets Alex under him in one smooth move, swinging his free leg over so he can straddle him and grind down. At the friction Alex arches up, makes a surprised, pleased noise that Henry immediately covers with his mouth. He kisses Alex with intent, pulls out his favorite dirty little trick right off the bat. He can feel Alex’s pulse jump and race underneath him, hear him suck in a shallow breath only to surge up and bring Henry in for another kiss, this one harder, more desperate.

“How’m I looking now?” Henry grins.

Alex just looks up at him, something from the stare of before back in his eyes. It’s not quite wonder but it’s something close.

The look fades before Henry can untangle it, and he doesn’t bother dwelling on it. It feels personal, whatever it is, and he knows Alex will tell him about it when he feels up to it. Henry has too good of a time after that to dwell on much of anything, anyway; it’s different than usual tonight, charged with a different sort of air—Henry sure as hell likes it, no doubts about that—though he can’t quite put his finger on any differences in particular. Still, it’s definitely something, because they wind up breaking the final rule that night as well. Henry chalks it up to the change of scenery and Alex’s surprisingly comfortable couch.

He wakes up warm and comfortable, boxers on, pants kicked off at the end of the couch and shirt nowhere to be seen. He and Alex have curled up together in their sleep, legs tangled and arms around each other, and Henry’s reminded of why he’d made this rule in the first place. He’s always been a cuddler. Still, it’s a good thing in this case, since their entangled limbs and the firm arm Henry’s got around Alex’s waist is probably the only reason Alex hasn’t fallen backwards off the couch. Instead, Alex’s face is pressed into Henry’s neck, where it feels like he’s drooling. Henry should definitely find that gross. He can’t seem to manage anything beyond a warm, inexplicable fondness. Alex shuffles a little, ducks his head down and rubs his cheek affectionately against Henry’s chest. Henry knows he should get up, or at least wake Alex, but he also knows full well he’s not going to do either of those things.

To pass the time, he tries to remember how he came to the conclusion that this would be a good idea.

He remembers starting to put his clothes back on but getting sucked back in by Alex’s voice, by a question or a teasing remark or some bit of conversation he felt completely unable to walk away from at the time and now can’t remember for the life of him. A hazy memory comes back to him, of later in the night, of long after he’s abandoned trying to put on his clothes and instead has Alex wrapped up comfortably in both arms. He remembers repeating, sleepily and without any real intent, that he ought to go. He remembers Alex stroking a thumb over the corner of his mouth, kissing him very softly. He remembers Alex asking quietly, stay, please?

Henry blames it on the new location. They’ve established good habits in hotels. The foreign surroundings of a fancy schmancy hotel room are always a good reminder, at least for Henry; he likes being with Alex, and he likes going home to his cozy apartment and familiar bed afterwards.

Here, though. He doesn’t remember feeling uncomfortable or out of place here last night, just... safe. Happy.

Stay, please?

A bit of panic begins to buzz around in the back of his head, because safe and comfortable and happy are maybe, possibly not the kinds of strictly sexual feelings Henry’s supposed to be having.  
But they could certainly fall under the category of friendship, right? And they’re friends now, that’s fine, that’s totally—

The hint of a yawn Alex gives as he wakes is enough for Henry to push aside thoughts of anything that isn’t this, at least for now.

“Morning,” he offers.

Alex grunts. “Does it have to be?”

“Kind of.” Henry laughs, and Alex burrows closer to Henry’s chest with a hum.

“Do that again.”

“What, laugh?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t do it on command, it’ll sound weird.”

“Take me to your laugh, leader,” Alex rumbles, in what’s apparently his approximation of an alien voice. It’s a terrible joke, one of Alex’s worst, but Henry finds himself laughing anyway. Alex hums again.

“Feels nice.”

Henry can’t help agreeing. His concerns from only moments ago seem far away now. They broke the remaining rules, so what? Breaking the first two just made things better, who’s to say if breaking these last two won’t do the same? Henry’s full to the brim with warm, fuzzy friendship feelings and is likely about to have sex sometime in the next couple of minutes if the way they’re  
currently, lazily rubbing themselves together is any indication; life is good.

Alex gives a stuttered groan, eyes blinking open briefly, shut again, then open firmly as he plants a hand on Henry’s hip.

“I’ve been thinking,” Alex tells him, apropos of nothing.

“Sounds dangerous.” Henry teases, slides a hand between them to cup Alex through his pants.

“Can you do two things at a time, or should I stop?”

“I can do a hundred things at a time—” Alex starts and Henry begins to unbutton Alex’s jeans, only for Alex to clasp his wrist. “—but letting you jerk me off while I try and talk about something serious for once is probably not one of them.”

Henry blinks, unsure of where serious for once is heading, but complies and takes his hand away. He starts to sit up, only for Alex to wave him back down.

“No, shit, don’t make it weird, just—lie down.”

Alex tugs on his shoulder when he doesn’t move fast enough, puts Henry on his back and props himself up on one elbow, leaning over Henry a little so they’re making eye contact. Any worry  
Henry has about the serious-for-once nature of the conversation melts at the way Alex’s smiling, soft and a little hopeful, like he was last night. Stay, please? Of course, now Henry curious what’s  
got Alex smiling like that, but at least he knows it’s the good kind of serious-for-once conversation and not the bad kind.

“I’ve been considering these rules of yours.”

Henry’s not sure what he means by that; they agreed to the rules together, Alex helped come up with them. “I thought they were our rules.”

“Same thing, you know what I mean.” Alex traces something over the skin of Henry’s chest, right by his heart. The touch is distracting, but he tries to pay attention to Alex’s words. “Point is, they’re not really sustainable, in the end. We broke them tonight, and we’ll probably break them again. Cycling through hotel rooms, fighting sleep after orgasm just to slink off to separate beds  
when there’s a perfectly good one ready and waiting? Seems like a waste to keep doing that forever. And since I know how much you hate waste, I figure...well, I figure maybe we might as well just toss out the whole ‘rule’ thing altogether.”

There’s something hesitant at the end there, something cautious; Henry misses it, distracted by Alex’s circling fingers—Alex always gets fidgety fingers when he’s nervous, but what’s there for him to be nervous about right now? Does he think Henry’s going to be mad? He smiles in a way he intends to be reassuring, takes Alex’s hand and squeezes. Alex looks elated.

“Of course we can, Alex. I mean, we came up those rules...well, kind of a long time ago.” It’s strange to think about, in a certain context; friends with benefits, for four months? But he doesn’t think about it that way often. It’s just...him and Alex, and when Henry thinks about it like that, four months only ever feels too short. “We were going to have to rework them eventually, I don’t  
think either of us planned on the situation lasting this long. I mean, we’re going to break some kind of friends with benefits record keeping this up.”

He feels Alex stiffen beside him, and the thumb that’s been rubbing over Henry’s knuckles slows, stops. “I guess we will.”

“What?” Henry can’t help feeling worried by Alex’s tone, his reaction. He can’t be thinking about...ending it, right? Why would he? Of course he’s not. Things are great, things are perfect, Alex even said he wanted to forgo the rest of rules, Henry’s just being—

“Nothing,” Alex dismisses, but it’s a lie and they both know it. The lazy, happy mood from before is gone and Henry can feel Alex withdrawing from him, literally as well as metaphorically.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve got work.” Alex shrugs, moving off the couch and over to the table where his shirt is.

“Don’t you?”

“Not for a while,” Henry lies. He doesn’t even know what time it is, but he knows he’s made a wrong move just now and he doesn’t want to leave without fixing it. Alex checks his phone before looking over at Henry, fondness there until his expression goes carefully neutral.

“You have work in less than an hour, Henry. You should go.”

“What’s happening here?” Henry insists instead, pushing himself off the couch and going to Alex.

“Why are you—”

“Maybe we got it wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Yeah.” Alex nods, surer this time as he tugs his shirt over his head. “Maybe we should’ve stuck to the rules after all.”

“It’s...kind of late for that, don’t you think?”

“Not really.” Alex rebuttons his pants, still not looking at Henry. “Not if we get back to basics.”

“Basics?”

“All the rules, not just the ones we feel like following on whatever given day.” Alex goes in hunt of something else now, waving loosely at Henry’s pants where they’re bunched in the corner of the couch. “Your pants are there.”

“I know where my pants are, Alex, I—what are you talking about, why would we ‘go back to basics’?”

“Because this isn’t working,” Alex says, frustrated now that he can’t seem to find whatever it is he’s looking for.

“What?” Henry’s more than a little taken aback by that. “What part?”

“All of it.”

“Alex, you’re one of the best friends I’ve got these days, I’m not going to just—” Henry insists, trying to follow after him as he starts pacing wider circles, but Alex cuts him off.

“I have friends, you do too. We should stick to them.”

“You can’t honestly think I’m going to just nod and smile and walk away here, would you just—”

He tries to catch Alex’s shoulder, but Alex shrugs him off. “Will you talk to me, please? Explain what the hell’s going on?”

“What’s going on is that you need to put on your pants and I need to find your shirt so you can get out of my office, like you should’ve last night,” Alex bites out.

“You asked me to stay, I—” _I wanted to stay comes at him _out of nowhere, and he startles himself by how viscerally he means it. He wanted to stay. He wanted to stay last night, and he wanted to stay this morning when he woke up. He felt so safe and comfortable and happy here, with Alex, happier than he’s been in years, than he’s ever been with anyone before—__

__“It was a mistake, Henry.” Alex whirls around, dangerous like a wounded animal, defensive now and all the more vicious for it. “You remember how this started, don’t you? Hate sex. Great, angry sex between two people so completely different they hated each other the minute they laid eyes on each other. Anything more than that was never going to work.”_ _

__Henry wishes Alex had just hit him, it would’ve hurt less._ _

__He must see something in Henry’s expression because he falters, backs away with a clenched jaw and averted gaze. Henry feels like he’s going to throw up, but it’s not just Alex’s words. It’s the realization that he can’t go back to that. Henry doesn’t have the slightest clue what’s going on with Alex right now, but if he’s serious, if he wants to throw them back to hotel meet-ups and rm 143 8pm b there texts and not getting to card his fingers through Alex’s hair and stroke his hands down Alex’s spine and feel Alex clutch his hands too tightly as he comes apart, that’s just—_ _

__Henry can’t treat Alex like some douchebag he met in a bar anymore, he won’t. He doesn’t want the rules, any of them, or to set any stupid friends with benefits records. He wants their morning back. He wants Alex lazy and happy again with nowhere else to be, wants Alex tracing his chest and smiling up at him like he’s the whole world, kissing him softly and asking him to stay._ _

__Henry knows what he wants. It’s only taken him something like two or three months too long to figure it out but he knows now and it’s right there on the tip of his tongue, able to fix everything or tear it all down permanently. He doesn’t know which, but Alex’s watching him so warily Henry can't stand it. Alex’s waiting for Henry to lash out, to try and hurt him in return for what he said. It only makes Henry’s next words all the easier._ _

__“I love you.”_ _

__Silence stretches between them, all the wariness chased out of Alex’s expression by pure surprise._ _

__“And maybe you think more won’t work, but I do,” Henry says, filled with the sudden need to convince Alex, get him to understand this amazing thing Henry himself has only just now realized.  
“Alex, we’re so good together. Can’t you see that? I know we’re supposed to be friends with benefits and this breaks every spoken and unspoken rule that comes with that but I—I’ve been writing this off for months as really good sex and then as really good friendship but it’s not, it’s so much more than that. You mean everything to me, Alex.”_ _

__“Henry,” Alex says, but it’s barely a whisper, a stunned exhale more than anything else, so Henry barrels onward in the hopes he can salvage something, anything._ _

__“Having you in my life—it’s not just that I can talk to you about anything, it’s that I want to. Even the little things, the dumb work stories or the barista misspelling my name again, the first thing I  
think when things happen to me now is that I can’t wait to tell you all about it. Can’t wait to hear you laugh, or watch you roll your eyes, or tell me how ‘it’s your own fault, idiot’ and kiss it better  
anyway. It can’t be a good day unless I hear your voice, can’t be a truly terrible day if I have. Anytime I’m not with you I want to be, and when I am...you make me feel safe. Not that I’m  
unsafe other places, but that I—I can be myself with you, not a version of it or a part of it but everything, good, bad and ugly, because you know me and I know you and being with you feels  
like coming home.”_ _

__Alex looks nothing short of stunned, still speaks like someone’s just punched him. His voice catches as he says Henry’s name. “Henry, how could you think—”_ _

__“I know.” Henry flinches back a little, torn between wishing he hadn’t said as much and wishing he could find a way to say more, say enough to make Alex feel the same. “I know you want to—  
to go back to basics, to keep the sex without the friendship but you’re not some stranger I met in a bar anymore. I can’t pretend to...to fuck you, like I don’t love you. So if we have to stop the ‘benefits’ part of this I can live with that but please, if you care about me at all, don’t cut me out of your life. I can’t lose you, Alex.”_ _

__For a long moment Alex does nothing but look at him, lips parted just slightly in surprise; it’s almost as if he’s speechless. Henry’s never actually seen Alex at a loss for words before. There’s something about the way he’s looking at Henry though, startlingly similar to the looks he’d been giving Henry yesterday, and when he does speak his voice is rough._ _

__“You’re such an idiot.”_ _

__Henry can’t help it, he flinches again. “Alex—”_ _

__“No, shut up.” Alex crosses over to him in less than two strides, drags him forward and kisses him, desperate and more than a little relieved. Even when they have to part, Alex’s hands still  
hold him tight and their foreheads stay touching. Alex swallows, a barely audible sound, then he laughs, happily disbelieving. “God, you’re such an idiot.”_ _

__His tone is happy and fond and Henry thinks this means something good, but doubt and worry nag at him all the same so he has to ask, “The good kind or the bad kind?”_ _

__“The I’ve been in love with you for months kind,” Alex tells him, and Henry goes still. “I’ve been—I tried to show you that you meant more to me so many times, but you never seemed open to it. Then you stayed last night, when I asked you to, and I hoped...”_ _

__“Earlier,” Henry realizes. “When you asked to forget the rules, you meant...”_ _

__“I want you,” Alex admits, like it’s some kind of terrible weakness he can’t believe he’s confessing to out loud. “The real way, the right way, the way where we can tell people and go out together and come home to each other and I—I would trade the sex for that in a heartbeat.”_ _

__“Who says you have to trade?” Henry squeezes the hand he’s got on Alex’s waist. “Or did you forget the part where I talked extensively about how much I love you?”_ _

__Alex gives a choked sort of laugh. “No, I remember. Still working on believing, but. I remember.”_ _

__“Believe me,” Henry encourages, kisses him. He keeps it gentler than before, chaste. There’s no need for intensity and desperation. They’ve got time._ _

__“Just like that, huh?” Alex asks softly._ _

__“Just like that,” Henry agrees._ _

__They kiss for another moment, before Alex tells him, “When you said yes the first time, to dropping the rules, you didn’t mean it the way I did. And I felt so stupid for even hoping—”_ _

__“I didn’t know what you were asking.” He didn’t know he loved Alex then either, but he thinks if he’d been given some sort of direct question and had to actually consider it, he’d have figured it out pretty fast. “But now I do, and I want everything you want, Alex. Same page.”_ _

__“Henry, I...you should know, my last name is—”_ _

__“Claremont-Diaz?” Henry raises an amused eyebrow. “As in, son of President Claremont and Senetor Diaz? Which is plastered over the building you brought me to spend the night in without so much as a security badge? Not to mention you wrote it on the insides of all your books along with ‘aka mine so don’t fucking touch’ in what looks like...sharpie?”_ _

__“Sharpie,” Alex agrees with a bit of a laugh._ _

__“Henry Fox, nice to meet you.”_ _

__“Fox,” Alex muses, a matching smile on his face. “You’re pretty foxy, Mr. Fox.”_ _

__“I’ve condemned myself to ten years of jokes about that, haven’t I?”_ _

__“Who says I’ll stop at ten?” Alex grins, but there’s a very genuine giddiness under it that’s nothing short of endearing. Henry leans in, steals a taste of it for himself. Alex kisses back happily for a moment, until something like hesitation cuts in._ _

__“So you...know,” Alex says slowly as they part. Henry raises an eyebrow in question. “That I’m Alex Claremont-Diaz. But obviously you aren’t very tuned into the news—”_ _

__Henry chuckles. “By which you mean I don’t read celebrity trash mags, no.”_ _

__“—so you probably aren’t as aware of my...”_ _

__“What, your reputation?” Henry brushes his thumb over Alex’s cheek. “Come on. Do I really seem like the kind of person who gives a damn about reputation? I know you, Alex. I don’t need to read trashy magazines or watch TMZ to get whatever bullshit ‘inside scoop’ they think they’ve got. And yeah, that means I’m aware you haven’t exactly had a stellar record with relationships.”_ _

__“I’m kind of awful at them,” Alex agrees, a little faintly, and Henry hears the so are you really sure you want one with me? he doesn’t add. If it’s supposed to be a warning, it’s a fairly terrible one. Alex’s still smiling, for one thing, and clutching Henry like it’d take a fire alarm to get him to so much as consider letting go._ _

__“I can get a date, y’know,” Henry tells him. Alex looks at him quizzically. “I can go out and get them myself, but I’ve also been asked on them. Given numbers, had people point me towards their  
friends, been coerced into set ups—”_ _

__“Is there a point buried in there?” Alex grumbles. Henry just hugs him closer, kisses his temple._ _

__“Yes. My point is that I turned them down, that I’ve been turning them all down for months now and I’ve never even thought twice about it. I kept telling myself I wasn’t interested and never bothered thinking about why that might be. They were nice enough people, attractive enough, but they weren’t you, Alex. And at the end of the day, some part of me knew that meant they weren’t worth wasting my time.”_ _

__Alex tries to stay neutral, but eventually can’t help cracking a smile. “Okay, that was a pretty nice point.”_ _

__“I kinda thought so. I was coming around to it.”_ _

__“I just meant...” Alex glances up at him, then down again. “There’s a lot of other people you could be with, Henry. I know that. And I—”_ _

__“Hey now, that wasn’t at all my—”_ _

__“No, I know that wasn’t your point, but it is mine. My point is that I’m rich and kind of famous band carry the kind of baggage nobody needs in their life, least of all you. You’re a good person, Henry. Also kind of a shithead and a complete terror at times, but...a really good person. I’m not. You once called me the most frustrating person on planet, and just because you’re no longer mad at me doesn’t mean you were wrong. I’m going to fuck up this up at some point, at many points, in all probability, and you’d probably be a lot happier if you—”_ _

__“My exact words were that you’re the single most frustrating lunatic that ever walked the earth,” Henry corrects, but he’s teasing and he gives Alex a quick kiss to assure him of it. “And for the  
record, I stand by that. Also for the record, having the single most frustrating lunatic that ever walked the earth, walk into my life? Best thing that ever happened to me. So quit putting yourself down. You think I don’t know you’re a workaholic? That you’ve got issues wrapped up in your issues? Honestly, Alex, we met someone we didn’t like in a bar for five minutes and decided to have long-standing semi-regular hate sex with them for nine months, I think we’ve both got some issues.”_ _

__Alex laughs, and God, he has such a wonderful laugh. How did Henry ever convince himself he didn’t love this man?_ _

__“Okay, so you’re not so good at this either.”_ _

__“No, I’m really not.” Henry raises his hand to Alex’s cheek, strokes his thumb there. “Wanna try together anyway?”_ _

__Alex nods, a little forcefully, like if he doesn’t do it fast enough Henry will change his mind. Henry smiles, cups Alex’s face in his hands as he kisses him again. He knows how Alex gets, knows he doesn’t believe he deserves good things and that even if he manages to gets them they’ll never last. Henry also knows he’s going try his damned hardest to prove to Alex how very wrong he is._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I was originally gonna post this after I finished komh, but I felt kind of bad for going mia and not updated in accordance to the schedule. so... here ya go! hope you liked it, comments are always appreciated, and, as always, i'm on tumblr @itsbr1ghternow


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